


Passing the Torch

by Neebsandtatties



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, rest of the gang is mentioned too, spoilers up to the Glowing Sea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neebsandtatties/pseuds/Neebsandtatties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*FKM request* Hancock shares a few words and a bottle of whiskey with Nate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing the Torch

**Author's Note:**

> *Written for the Kink Meme*

Tonight was the night.  
  
He couldn’t put it off anymore. He'd even gotten a bottle of good whiskey. It was Nate’s favourite brand too, according to Jenny. As he let himself out the door, John Hancock hoped Nate would appreciate the tremendous effort he went through to get it.  
  
Sanctuary Hills was still and quiet for a change, which would make things harder of course. Hancock didn’t want anyone overhearing his private conversations. But he’d rather it be quiet if it meant Jenny could get some well-deserved sleep. She needed it. Worrying about fifty million things a day must have been very very exhausting. He had left her sleeping; cocooned up in a pile of blankets and insulated from the outside world so she probably hadn’t even heard him leave the house.  
  
He picked his way through shrubbery down the back of their house to the remains what was once probably a nice little river. Two hundred years later it was just a sad little trickle.  
  
“Hey brother. Mind if I take a seat?” He didn’t wait for a response. Hancock sat down, laying his shotgun on one side and the whiskey on the other. Damn. He had forgotten the glass tumblers, after going out of his way to polish them up for the occasion. 

His hands, gnarled and rough, fumbled around in his coat pockets. He had to have a smoke to calm his nerves down a little. “Hang on a second man, hang on.” Why did the real John Hancock need so many damn pockets? Bet he was always losing his smokes in them as well. “Fucking Tuesdays. Can never get my shit together on a Tuesday,” Hancock stated, patting himself down. Had Jenny stolen them again in a passive aggressive attempt to get him to stop smoking? That always made him laugh, the thought that she was so concerned about his nicotine habit than his drug habit.   
  
Hancock's palm squashed against a small carton in the breast pocket. Fuck he couldn’t even remember storing them. “Ah ha, there you are.” He found the old remains of a Club Army carton of cigarettes, along with a flip lighter that had seen better centuries. He extracted a cigarette then turned his attention properly to a tomb stone in front of him.  
  
Nate’s grave.  
  
It felt wrong to be proud of a headstone, but Hancock couldn’t help himself. No one else in the Commonwealth had a headstone that looked so good. They'd had all had a hand in creating it, in some way or another. It was testament to their love and respect to Jenny, the glue that held them all together. She had always wanted to give her late husband deserved a proper send off, but never seemed to have the time nor energy to do it. Maybe she was even a little scared to. And it wasn’t surprising. Jenny was afraid of a lot of things.  
  
And still to Hancock’s dismay, the tin-head Danse had started it all by finding a large slab of white granite and commented that it would have made a good grave stone for Hancock himself.  
  
Oh how Hancock had laughed.  
  
Not.  
  
Then Preston Garvey had got wind of it when they came sniping back to Sanctuary. And Preston Garvey was apparently just too nice for his own good.

By Sunday, he had decided that they would give Jenny’s husband a proper send off. Preston knew her longer than anyone; knew she had a husband in a frozen fridge box that she'd never had a chance to bury.  
  
Strong had moved the slab of granite from outside of Lexington to Sanctuary Hills. Codsworth smoothed it down using some abrasive pads attached to his robotic limbs. Curie polished it into a glossy finish using some sort of aluminium and water compound she had put together. Cait – drunk as usual - worked some magic with the heavy machinery and cut it into a nice shape. MacCready had surprised them all by building up a decent coffin, considering their limited resources at hand. Damn if he didn’t manage to scourange a tin of yellow paint from Carla. Piper wrote a touching eulogy, and Nick had stencilled it onto the glossy surface with those enviously steady hands. Not a letter had been out of place. 

And as for Hancock himself, it was his job to keep Jenny occupied. He had kept her away under the guise of needing to see to Goodneighbor until everything was ready; until Nate’s body was removed from his ice tomb, allowed to thaw then carefully arranged into the coffin. She didn’t need to be the one to do that.

And when the time came, Jenny had cried and told them they were all silly for wasting time and precious resources on her. And they had all told her she was silly to thinking that it was.

But the gesture was not wasted. They had all seen what it meant to her – well maybe except Strong. But he didn’t really understand what all the fuss was about and no one had the energy to explain it to him. Jenny had finally been able to say goodbye to her husband and give him the burial he deserved. Hancock held her hand the entire time, a silent anchor, as Sturges, Garvey, Danse and Cait had lowered the coffin into the ground. Settlers had come to pay their respects, people Jenny barely even knew. Hell the Vault Tec rep – Todd was it? – had even put two pre-war coins into the coffin, saying something about paying the fare to some sort of Ferryman, whatever that was about. Jenny had laughed through her tears and said better late than never.

So here he was, sitting in front of his lover's husband's grave. It taken him too long to work up the courage to come up here, without Jenny. He should have come sooner. He owed Nate that much. They had to have a few words.

Hancock clicked the flip lighter and a feeble flame sparked to life. He’d need a new one next time Carla was in town. “So, like your new digs? Sorry it’s taken me so long to get up here.”

As he lit his cigarette, Hancock couldn’t even think of a halfway decent excuse. He hadn't he come up sooner? Was it shame? Guilt? Somewhere in between. He didn't know. But if Nate was out there truly, listening in then he’d know. He’d understand.

“But you know how it is. Jenny is fine, still tryin’ to be the champion of morals and save the Commonwealth one settlement at a time and all that jazz. Gotta get herself mixed up in everyone’s business and try to solve everyone’s problem. Damn little goody two shoes that she is,” Hancock said, but amicably. He loved it. He loved how much she seemed to care, how she seemed to physically ache for the Commonwealth. If more people loved as she did, there would be a lot less problems in the world. Hell, maybe if man had loved his fellow man like she did, there would be no wasteland to begin with.

"So yeah." Hancock took a deep drag to settle his nerves. It wasn’t working. He almost wished he had taken something a little stronger instead. But damn if he was going to get high while having a conversation with Jenny’s husband. He didn’t have much, but he had fucking standards."She’s still havin' issues with her heart though, had a few close calls.” Hancock almost felt Nate’s silent disapproval, or it was the mentats from earlier finally tapering off.

Either way, he felt he had to justify himself immediately. How strange it was to not believe in a higher power but still be oddly afraid. “But before you get The Big G up there to strike me down or turn me into salt or whatever, we’re keepin’ on top of it," Hancock insisted after exhaling." Had a doctor see to her. Half a tablet of Buffout in the morning, half a tablet in the evening. Five millilitres of psycho in the morning, no more than five. She’s just gotta remember to keep taking them." He took another drag. "And not take anything else with ‘em."

He remembered those close calls with almost painful recollection; when she had taken extra psycho to get her through a tough fight. He had damn near had a heart attack himself when he had found out and confiscated all her chems. She was still sore about it. But like fuck if she was dying on his watch. He'd have never fucking lived with himself if something had happened to her.

Hancock continued his story, hoping that Nate would know that he tried his best. “But hell, ya might as well ask water not to be wet.” The ghoul tapped the ash away carefully, making sure none of it ended up on Nate’s grave because that would just be bang out of order. “Fuck if she aint forgetful-“

Hancock stopped, suddenly remembering exactly who he was talking to.

This was Jenny’s husband.

Of course he knew how forgetful she was. Nate probably knew her better than he did – probably more considering she had a kid with him. The thought stung more than it had any right to.  “But you already knew that huh?”

Nate was comfortingly silent in a pleasant, non-judgemental way. There was something to be said about talking to a grave stone. They should talk more often. 

Hancock cleared his throat. “I’ll get to the point. I ain’t great at this sort of shit. Inspirin’ speeches? Yeah, I’ll do five. But this? Well I’m more the running away type….” He paused, trying to grapple words into complete sentences. Why did his charisma have to fail him now? When he needed it the most? “But I ain’t running out on Jenny. I’d sooner jump into a pit of Deathclaws…Wait, do you even know what those are? Big G better be keeping you right up there.”

His nerves really were getting the better of him. He was babbling, and it was just fucking stupid. He had no reason to be afraid. It was not as if Nate was about to jump out of his grave, give him a wallop then tell him to get the point. 

“Look, I promised her I’d help her find your kid, and I’m promisin’ you now. I’ll look after her, and when we find your kid, I’ll look after em both. You have my word. Ain’t nobody gettin’ to them with this dog on the porch,” Hancock insisted, ignoring for a moment that Jenny already had a pooch that sat on her porch – two actually. And lived in a settlement surrounded by heavy machine gun turrets. And surrounded by the best shots he knew. 

He inhaled another lungful of nicotine. “I just wanna say…thanks, ya know, for loving her. Giving her a kid…I know you'd be here if you could to look out for her...So I'll keep an eye on her. Least I can do for you pal.”

Smoke curled around him as he exhaled slowly. “She speaks about you a lot ya know, about the world. She always keeps us entertained about what life was like before the War.” Hancock liked those evenings, when she sat at the cooking station and just…talked. About nothing. About everything.

She talked about how she had become a lawyer but wasn’t cut out for defense cases, about how family law had upset her too much and that she had eventual settled into the world of conveyancing. She spoke animatedly, quickly, hands flapping about in the air as she spoke about what the world was life before. She spoke about her son, and how perfect he had been except when he had colic in those first few months.

And Hancock drunk it all in. She could have been talking about anything and he’d have never cared. Just anything to hear her voice. He could get high on her voice alone. What a stupid, love sick fuck he was.

Yet he was okay with that. 

Stubbing out his cigarette, Hancock reached for the bottle of whiskey he had brought with him. “Anyway, since we both love the same gal, figured that we oughta share a drink,” he said cheerfully, because this time it wouldn’t end with fisticuffs. “I forgot the glasses so we'll need ta drink straight from the bottle. You're an army man I heard so I figured you'd be used to being without the fine china."

He unscrewed the cap then held it up towards Nate’s grave in a toast. He should have felt stupid, toasting to a grave stone. But honestly, it was perhaps one of the most sensible things he had done to date. “To the sweetest, finest girl you’d ever care to meet.”

Hancock tipped the bottle back, taking a large mouthful. The whiskey burned its way down into his belly, settling there pleasantly and warming through into his bones. 

He then poured a large measurement out onto Nate’s grave. The amber liquid had barely splashed onto the ground before it was absorbed by the dry soil.

He grinned to himself over the rim of the bottle. Apparently Nate quite liked this vintage.

Hancock took another mouthful, then tipped out a second measurement to Nate. Again the whiskey was sucked into the ground and for some reason, Hancock found it hilarious. “Slow down you drunk,” he commented with a chuckle.

They continued for several minutes, taking turns with Hancock’s bottle. By the time the bottle was half empty, there was a little patch of wet soil on Nate’s grave. “Gonna have a hell of a headache tomorrow Nate,” Hancock joked, another a small sip. “Takes a lot more than half a bottle to get me under the table so don’t even think about trying to outdrink me.”

The whiskey in his stomach kept him warm, and it was just as well, because the temperature was rapidly dropping. He’d finish the bottle, then he’d head back and tangled himself back in with Jenny. “I’m sorry this happened to you man,” Hancock said, pouring another measurement of whiskey onto Nate’s grave, a larger one this time. “I really fucking am. But I ain’t sorry that I met her. She’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me…I just. Fuck.”

Words failed him, catching in his throat, and forming a hard lump. There was a wrestle of morals in him. He felt torn, caught between between remorse for what happened to Nate, but knowing that if it hadn’t happened at all then he’d have never met Jenny. He would have missed her completely. He felt wrong, mixed up and for once, had to deal with his  crippling emotions without an icy gasp of Jet to get him through.

But Nate would know that, he’d understand. He was very understanding and soothing. 

Hancock took another mouthful of the whiskey, needing the liquid courage more than ever. “But so long as there’s fucking breath in this shrivelled husk of a body. I ain’t going to let anything happen to her, or Shaun when we find him.” The urge seized him to reach out and touch the polished granite, and Hancock found himself doing just that. Nate had to know.

He pressed his palm against Nate’s stone, spreading his fingers against the engraved name. The granite was cool and comforting beneath his sweaty palms. “You have my word," Hancock promised. 

“John? You out here?”

Hancock jumped suddenly, retracting his hand almost immediately. He looked back at the house they shared, the very house she once shared with Nate. He could vaguely see Jenny looked at him from over the prickly hedge.   
  
“Down here baby doll,” he called back, bottling what was left of the whiskey. “Let’s save the rest for later yeah?” Hancock added with a wink to Nate. Maybe he'd come back down again. Nate was very easy to talk to. 

Footsteps crunched lightly over the dry earth and twigs as he heard Jenny make her way down to the hill. The light from her pip-boy appeared before she did. It cut through the bracken and then Jenny herself appeared – all five feet of her.

It still floored him that she'd managed to survive the Commonwealth. Truthfully, she looked like a pre-war, breakable china doll, the sort he'd seen old pictures of. He always imagined that she'd look perfectly at home on a toy shelf. It was hard to believe she was over two hundred years old and had a kid. Sleeping with her almost felt like sacrilege  

She rubbed at her eyes. “Hey John," she said before stifling a yawn.

"What you doin' up? Thought you were sleeping,” he said, slipping the bottle back into his pocket and standing up. He loved how she said his name. She made it feel okay to be John again. The name didn’t hurt anymore.

She approached him, looking almost laughable in a pair of road leathers that had been hastily thrown over a faded pair of floral pyjamas – her grandma pyjamas as he called them. "I was, but I woke up and you were gone.” There was an edge of disquiet in her voice that wasn’t surprising. She had awoken to find her husband dead and her baby gone. It was no wonder that waking alone would frighten her now.

"Sorry babe. Next time I'll leave a note."

She seemed relieved at the thought and he vowed to leave her as many notes as she wanted. "What are you doing out here so late? Are you okay?” Jenny asked.

Okay so he did smile then. He couldn’t help himself. She was such a little worry wort. “Nothing. Just having a little heart-to-heart with my new friend here,” he said, gesturing to Nate’s grave.

Her gaze dropped to the grave stone, and he saw the all too familiar flicker of pain in her eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced with a look of acceptance. “Oh.” There was a little pause, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He didn’t blame her. It sounded stupid even to him.

Then she asked hesitantly. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Just about you.”

“Me?” she asked sounding surprised, as if the thought that someone was speaking about her was ludicrous. The whole damn Commonwealth was gossiping about her now.

And they all had a different spin on her, where she went and with whom. Hancock certainly didn’t like the rumours that she was involved with Paladin _Dense_. “Yeah, unless there’s another Jennifer Anderson knockin’ around here.”

He stopped to raise his brow at her; a jerk of skin that had lost hair years ago. “And if there is, we should see if she’s up for a threesome. Ain't gonna to lie babe that would be real hot.”

She laughed at his terrible humour. “You’re awful.”

Hancock grinned. "But I'm not hearing a 'no'"

"No, you aren't," she replied, her expression playful.

To think, there was a time when she would give him a reproachful, scandalised look but then turn away to hide a blush. He'd corrupted her well apparently. “But seriously doll, it’s been nothing but good things," he explained. 

Jenny joined him at his side, slipping a hand to rest on the crook of his arm. “I should hope so,” she replied. He was proud of her voice being steady, of her solid and sure hand on his arm. “Has he been bending your ear with tall tales Nate?”

“Tall tales? Nah we’re just bondin' over a couple of drinks,” Hancock replied, letting his arm slip around her. Nate wouldn’t mind. He’d want him to make sure that she was nice and warm.

He was certainly glad he did for Hancock realised how cold she was. “Fuck, you’re freezing. Gotta get you back inside before you turn back into a popsicle again”

Jenny made a humming noise of agreement, slipping underneath his coat to snuggle against him. She was so small that Hancock felt like a giant by comparison. “Yeah, my feet are cold.”

“Your feet are always fucking cold,” Hancock commented. He knew that from personal experience where she had curled herself up and pressed her cold toes onto his back, giggling while he yelped. “Let’s go babe.”

“Mmmkay. Goodnight Nate,” she said softly, pressing her cheek against the ruffles of his shirt. “Sleep well.”

“Enjoy your headache brother,” Hancock added, tipping his hat with his free hand.  _Thank you Nate, and goodnight._


End file.
